I know the weight of your throat
by tjesje
Summary: Josuke is struck, briefly, by the fact he is head over heels for a dude who loves multi-grain loaf, who drinks orange juice with extra pulp and wears at least four different scented creams — who thinks A-Ha is a juice brand. (contains blowjobs, snowballing, anal fingering - be warned)
Josuke knows he's frowning. He's sitting on the edge of Rohan's enormous, blindingly white bathtub, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair falling around his shoulders, dripping into his lap, and he's watching Rohan. Rohan, who's standing two feet away from him and rubbing some kind of cream made of god knows what and looking like sand and puke into the skin of his shoulderblades and his chest. Rohan _Kishibe_ , an alright mangaka, he's heard (not that he's an expert or whatever), who is apparently famous and has people writing him absolute R-rated filth in lieu of fan letters, who thinks A-Ha is a brand of orange juice.

Josuke's frowning. He frowns and wonders when exactly he fell into this particular brand of domesticity.

"Yo, Rohan," he starts, kicking his legs out and scraping his big toe over the pristine tiles. "Which do you like better, apple or orange juice?" It's inane, the question is, and he knows it, and knows by now, after years of experience, how Rohan's eyebrow must have arched up into his fringe and how his lips open a little when he frowns. Rohan makes a half-turn with a tilt of his hips, only one-quarter of his face facing the mirror and the other three-quarters for Josuke and Josuke alone. "What?"

Ah, there's the arch. "Apple or orange, dude. I want to know for groceries later. Apple's the best, orange is for yuppies — for the record."

"You never do groceries." Rohan turns back to the mirror and his own reflection and pins his hair back with steady, experienced hands and his long fingers crooked around the small clip. "You always wait until there's nothing but raw onions and then beg me to do them."

"I'll do 'em this time, I swear, and I'll even get the disgusting bread you like, the one with the seeds in." Josuke gets up and takes the barely two steps to press himself against Rohan's back, making eye contact with him in the mirror. "So, apple or orange?"

Rohan rolls his eyes and grabs a small jar of cream, smearing a small drop of it on his nose and massaging it into his face. It smells a little like flowers. Any kind, he supposes, since he's less than an amateur and leaves the expert flowery shit to Giorno, and he looks forward to sniffing Rohan's face (though he guesses that's also a little weird, maybe) and naming things he thinks might be flowers while Rohan rolls his eyes and eventually tells him it's irises or violets or lotus or _anything_ Josuke doesn't care about until it's attached to Rohan.

Rohan takes his sweet time rubbing his cheeks and they're a little red when he's done. Josuke's almost too distracted by the sight of them in the mirror to hear Rohan's sighed response.

"I like orange. Get some with pulp." He closes the jar of cream and sets it back in the medicine cabinet, next to his own vitamin supplements and Josuke's hair products. "You'd _better_ get me my multi-grain. And the nice cheese. You can use my card."

He tries to turn around but presses his hip into Josuke's crotch instead, amazed at how Josuke manages to look pretty unconcerned about anything except for Rohan's face scrunching up in the mirror and looking increasingly irritated at his lack of space. "Do you _mind_?"

Josuke smirks, watching Rohan's eyelid twitch and his fingers curl. "Not at all. Do _you_?"

He grinds his flaccid cock into Rohan's hip and he knows they only just got clean and that it's eleven in the morning, but something about apple juice versus orange juice and nice cheese and knowing that he can leave and come _home_ and knowing Rohan will be there waiting for him grumbling about how he got white bread again set him off and he can't stop anymore.

He leans back slightly, just enough for Rohan to turn, and waits for him to look up. Rohan does, pins him with a look and hands on his hips and licks his lips before his gaze falls down to Josuke's towel, and Josuke is _gone._

He steps closer again, feels his hands shake before he leans them into the counter, leans in and presses his lips into Rohan's. There's buzzing under his skin, a steady humming like functioning machinery in his veins and he bites and licks into Rohan's mouth like he's wired to do so.

Rohan is quiet, as quiet as he always is during these kinds of things, but his grip is steady and grounding when Josuke moves to latch himself onto Rohan's neck, to lick a stripe up the side of it and into the shell of his ear. He groans and whispers 'please' when Rohan shudders, and feels Rohan push him towards their bedroom.

He trips, which is a dumb and very uncool thing to do during foreplay in his opinion, and the perpetrator is his own shirt and underwear, but he's still sucking and licking at the soft spot behind Rohan's ear and when his foot catches on the edge of the v-neck he'd haphazardly tossed on the floor the day before, he bites down, hard. He's about to apologise if it weren't for the unholy sound leaving Rohan's lips a second later, a strangled moan he's never heard Rohan make before, much less any of the people in the cheap pornos he watched as a teenager (a _lot_ of pornos), and Josuke groans an _ohhh God_ into Rohan's neck before enthusiastically dropping to his knees in front of their bed.

Somehow their towels survived the ride and Josuke tugs at the one covering Rohan's waist, sitting between Rohan's legs, until it falls open and lands on the floor. Rohan's chest heaves when it comes loose and Josuke chances a look up, at the small red spots on his pale cheeks and his dilated pupils.

Rohan's half-hard, dick rising up like a vulgar invitation, a little crooked and flushed and the pulsing and buzzing under Josuke's skin gets louder and more unhinged. It feels like a heart attack and he thinks he may have to get his mouth on Rohan before he _dies._

Rohan's hands bury themselves into his wet hair, neither grasping nor pulling, when he licks Rohan into his mouth.

He keeps them there when Josuke licks around the head of his cock and wraps his lips around him, sucking a little, testing at first, to see what mood Rohan is in today, but Rohan doesn't seem inclined to let him know, letting him do what he wants, whatever he feels like. It makes Josuke feels like a drowning man, a little. Both too small and too big for his skin, and he doesn't exactly know what he's thinking, except for that Rohan tastes like salt and like skin, and he can _smell_ flowers and the shower gel Rohan never lets him use.

He curves his palms and his fingers around Rohan's hips and swallows to take more of him, hearing Rohan's breath hitch and feeling his fingers tighten on the back of his head.

He hums, pressing his tongue into the side of the rapidly hardening dick inside his mouth when pulling back and Rohan chokes.

Josuke keeps his hand on the base of him when he sits back on his heels and looks up with his lips slicked with spit and asks "what do you need?" because he's a considerate lover and his mother raised him right. He makes up for it by slowly stroking and clenching his hand at random intervals and feels it's an achievement when it takes Rohan a little longer than usual to answer.

"This is… this is good, this is fine."

Rohan lowers himself down onto the edge of the sheets, knees still spread wide and clenching the bedspread in his fingers and _God,_ God, yes, _yes_ , Rohan's a dick, but he loves him and his dumb face and he throws an arm out and gropes blindly for their nightstand.

He has to scoot his knees over their carpet and only huffs a little when his fingers can't reach, but lets out a small, sharp sound from the back of his throat when his fingers close around the tube of lube they've frequently abused to the point where the bottom of it had to be taped back shut.

He sits back on his haunches, throws the tube next to Rohan where it bounces on the bed, and grabs for Rohan's cock, lapping at the head of it like a cat, (Josuke loves cats but forgives himself for tainting their image by using them as an analogy for him being a fan of sucking dick) and looking right up.

"Are you in a rush?" Rohan chastises, face mocking up until Josuke leans forward and slowly, _slowly_ swallows the full length of Rohan's dick, pinching the soft inside of his thigh with one hand and using his other to move down to his sack.

Rohan's legs are shuddering and one hand is once again tightly fisted in his hairs while the other holds onto the sheets like a lifeline. When Josuke's nose hits the dusting of pubic hairs at the base and he swallows, he hears Rohan suck in a sharp breath and feels the muscles of his thighs jump beneath his palm.

He uses the hand he's not using to give Rohan the ball massage of his bitter life to grab the tube of lube and uncaps it with the palm of one hand and two of his fingers almost on instinct.

Josuke takes his time to shift on his knees, drags his mouth back while sucking and hollowing his cheeks, the hum under his skin like a million bees threatening to break out when he hears Rohan's breathless gasp – doesn't quite pull his mouth away but leaves his lips at the tip as a steady pressure.

He sees Rohan watch him wet his fingers with an open mouth and he has to pull off and grin into Rohan's thigh for a couple of seconds, until Rohan _tsk_ s impatiently and knocks his knee into Josuke's shoulder, Josuke's cheek mushing into his thigh.

"Alright, alright, impatient." He glides a lube-slicked finger across Rohan's asshole. "Are you in a _rush_?"

He silences Rohan's retort when he presses in, the muscle clenching as Rohan let's out a rush of air like a sigh, loud in the silent room. He bends forward again, first dragging his tongue over his sack, then licking up to the crown of his cock, now so, so incredibly hard and flushed dark, curved upwards, and massaging the inside of his thigh.

He gets to the first knuckle before he has to stop and add more lube, and Rohan shakes impatiently, holding him with both fists now. He slowly works Rohan open, not intending to do more than that, Rohan's hips twitching and pushing down into his hand, his breath winding tight in his throat before he gasps and wraps his lips around Rohan again.

He slides his finger in and out in time with the workings of his throat, and it's several long minutes before Josuke adds a second finger and simultaneously opens his throat for more. Rohan's breath leaves his mouth all at once, but he doesn't gasp to take in more, just _stares_ at him, hips still slightly twitching and fucking Josuke's mouth while Josuke does his best to work his fingers a little deeper and curve them to touch and stroke the yielding shape of his prostate.

Rohan grasps for Josuke's hair and his shoulder simultaneously and breaks the silence by using the breath he'd only just gotten back to form a string of breathless, filthy profanity. His voice shakes uncontrollably by the last couple syllables of it and Josuke strokes his fingers inside of him again, just to see if he can make Rohan say those completely ridiculous words again.

He hums a laugh, breathless from the exercise of this so early in the day, breathless from how ridiculous he feels, being in love with an idiot who likes orange juice best and sometimes forgets to eat for days.

When he curls his fingers again, breathing out heavily through his nose and once again pressing his nose into the dark pubic hairs he actually kind of loves but saw Rohan use actual conditioner on once, Rohan lets out a startled shout and releases his shoulder from his vice grip, filling Josuke's mouth and his throat with cum he _doesn't_ exactly like the taste of, but he can think of worse things, just not at the moment.

Rohan sits heaving on the bed still looking at him, and he'd grin, but he kind of has a mouthful of cum, and also, he really wants to kiss. He slips his fingers from Rohan's ass and wipes them on the sheets like he knows Rohan hates.

His lips are swollen, they're covered in spit, spit and _other_ stuff, and his mouth is full and it's a bad idea. Absolutely terrible, but he still rises from his knees and presses his mouth to Rohan's and opens it, licks into Rohan's, and _fuck_ , _oh my God,_ Rohan groans, accepts that Josuke has just filled his mouth with spittle and his _own cum_ and today feels like he opened a dark, mysterious box full of Rohan Kishibe Kinks, but he's certainly not complaining.

He presses his tongue into the roof of Rohan's mouth and it's filthy, the way saliva and semen trail from the corners of their lips while they breathe hot air into each other.

Rohan doesn't bother with any formalities when he closes his fist around Josuke's stiff, weeping cock and roughly spreads his pre-cum, his tongue still very far down Josuke's throat and his cum mixing with their spit and mingling between their mouths like he's hungry for it.

He strokes Josuke hard and rough and fast and Josuke gasps, his mouth hanging open and Rohan sucking on his tongue.

He knows his face pinches when he comes. Rohan's told him many times, that he looks surprised at first, then pained and then ridiculous. He does it anyway, when Rohan brushes the palm of the hand he's not using to work Josuke's brain into shutting down across his throat and presses hard enough for him to notice – he comes with Rohan's name on his breath and his cum on his tongue.

He slouches, still bent over Rohan's legs, and Rohan falls back and allows him to lie down next to him even though there's cum drying on his stomach.

His eyes widen when he watches Rohan close his mouth and swallow, and he's not sure what else he expected him to do, really.

He curls his arm around Rohan's shoulders, kisses him, sighs, nuzzles into his chest and waits. They listen to the sound of the world going about its business outside their apartment windows for as long as it takes for Josuke to start dozing off.

It's quiet for a while.

Rohan whacks him over the head.

"Wh-!"

Rohan untangles himself, sitting up, and moves to grab the towel from the floor. "Just making sure you're still alive."

Josuke groans. "I'm not. You're killing me."

"I'll notify the authorities."

Rohan stands up and Josuke gets a beautiful view of Rohan using his towel to wipe most of the lube from the crack of his ass before stretching his legs and walking back into the bathroom, without a doubt to redo his morning routine.

He dozes off for a couple minutes before he's covered in a handful of wet wipes, a credit card and a grocery list. There's an addition at the bottom - he can pick out dessert, there's specific crackers Rohan wants him to get, he's allowed _one_ pint of ice-cream. The usual.

Penciled in, underneath a plea to stop buying Star Magazine, a small _1 gallon of apple juice_ stares at him, and he does his best to contain his grin and the pump of his fist until he's safely outside.


End file.
